by Howe, Cheryl
“I traded some of your brandy for laudanum in New Providence. I’ll slip some in his grog,” Solomon said.
“You’re getting crafty, Solomon. Learning tricks from me?”
Solomon laced his hands behind his back. “No. Felicity gave me the idea. After treating Avery, she thought having a sedative on board would be useful.”
“All of those uses no doubt had something to do with my demise.” Drew rolled up the map of the Orient and tossed it back into the trunk.
Solomon’s eyes widened in exaggerated surprise. “We’re not going to China after all?”
Drew pulled a map from the bottom of the stack and placed it on top. “We’ll skirt the islands close to Barbados to make sure I’m right about Ben’s safety. At least I’ll have a clear conscience when I retreat in disgrace.”
“We can also make sure Felicity stays out of trouble.”
Drew laughed, surprised he still could. “Solomon, Felicity doesn’t find trouble. She creates it.”
***
Admiral Meldrick looked down his hooked nose at Felicity. “Miss Kendall, do you have any idea of the trouble you’re in?”
She lifted her tired gaze. “But I don’t know where he would go.”
The British admiral slapped his riding crop across his gloved palm. “He didn’t take you to an island where he might have a home or to anyplace where he feels safe?”
“I’ve already answered that.”
“Answer it again.” He brought the riding crop across the table in a loud whack.
She had stopped jumping at the sound two hours earlier. Her elbow propped on the table kept her head from drooping. “I’m tired. I don’t know anything else to tell you.”
He picked up a lantern and held it close to her face. “You’ve told us nothing. You know we can have your father tortured before he hangs.”
She glared at him in spite of the light hurting her weary eyes. “I’ve had an awful day, and I would like to rest now.” Behind her, a soldier shifted his feet in the powdery sand accumulated on the planked floor. She could feel the other soldiers’ unease as well. Admiral Meldrick must have sensed it too because he returned the lantern to the table and paced away from her.
She’d not been allowed to leave the tavern since the skirmish that morning. Meldrick had been furious at the debacle. Many British were wounded, but only two had died—the man who had been skewered with the dagger and the marksman Felicity had shot. The young man lingered for an hour before he finally succumbed to his wounds. It was an hour she would relive in her nightmares.
Admiral Meldrick paced back to her, the pleasant smile curving his lips an indication that he’d calmed down, or that he was going to eat her whole.
“Excuse my temper, Miss Kendall. The Duke of Foxmoor chose me for this mission and you’ve made me look a fool. The duke is a powerful man. He’s promised me his favor for bringing him El Diablo’s head. He could help you too and, more importantly, your father.”
She stared through him without answering or acknowledging she’d heard. He’d said nothing new. He asked the same questions and made the same threats repeatedly. Anything else she might do or say in her near delirious condition would only cause her father and herself more harm.
Admiral Meldrick strained to maintain his grin. The lines on his face grew frightening. “I want you to think. Did Andrew Crawford mention a home or friends in the area?”
She’d considered telling them of Drew’s island, since she didn’t have any idea of its location. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t tell the British how to get there, but the secluded inlet was Hugh and Solomon’s hiding place as well. She couldn’t risk inadvertently condemning them to a life of slavery. Bringing herself to think of the well-mannered Solomon as a pirate proved as difficult as convincing herself Drew was a killer.
She rocked her head back and forth in the cradle of her hand. “No. I don’t know who his friends are,” she whispered.
Admiral Meldrick’s riding crop smashed across the table. “Have you forgotten, at least five witnesses saw you murder one of His Majesty’s men?”
“I was aiming at El Diablo. I missed. I told you that already.”
The lie stuck in her throat every time she told it. Admitting to her crime would not bring the marksman back. Lying might keep her father and herself alive. Obviously, Admiral Meldrick didn’t believe her. He shook his wigged head and paced in the other direction.
Running into the British soldiers had not been a blessing after all. Everything Drew had said about the treatment she would receive from King George’s representatives had turned out to be true. With each passing moment, she dug herself deeper into a hole that would bury her father, and it appeared she would be going under with him.
Her choice to save Drew had been a reaction, not a thought-out plan. Knowing the consequences of what she’d done and having to live with the man’s death on her conscience didn’t make her regret saving Drew’s life. He thought she’d betrayed him. Even that was as it should be. Yet despite her resolve and the redemption of her soul, she’d wanted to take Drew’s hand when he’d offered it to her.
A commotion outside the tavern warranted only a slight lifting of her head. She’d not eaten since before she’d found Drew’s flag and had slept only for a few short hours. The weight of her head seemed immense. Holding it up with her tired neck represented a colossal task.
She glanced toward the door. Captain McCulla entered the room, propelled by two soldiers. Felicity found the strength to sit straight. A headache started at the top of her neck and wrapped around to her eyes. Her resolve to remain quiet didn’t stop things from getting worse. Surely she was being punished.
“This man claims he was El Diablo’s prisoner.” The soldier holding up McCulla’s right side adjusted his grip. The red-faced captain had turned crimson and his head wobbled on his neck. He was falling-down drunk.
Admiral Meldrick sauntered regally toward McCulla. He stopped short and waved his riding crop in the air. “Good heavens, but this man’s foul. This had better not be a waste of my time, because it certainly is an affront to my senses.”
“Aye, sir. I got information for you. That bloody bastard El Diablo is right in this very harbor waiting to be plucked,” slurred McCulla. “I can take you to him.”
Admiral Meldrick covered his mouth and nose with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. The gold fringe on his immaculate white uniform shimmered with his movement. “Your information appears to be at least a day old. A vessel in my fleet gave the ruffians in question a merry chase only to return empty-handed less than an hour ago. If you can tell me where El Diablo can be found—and I assure you it’s nowhere near New Providence—I’ll be glad to entertain further discussion on the matter. If not, be gone.”
McCulla wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “If you provide a bottle of rum, milord, I can tell you everything about the thievin’ bastard, including his real name.”
Disgust appeared undisguised on Meldrick’s face. “Remove this drunkard from my sight.” The admiral pivoted on his heel, dismissing McCulla.
“Wait. I can tell you about his ship, about his crew—” When he spotted Felicity, McCulla swallowed his sentence. He lifted his arm and pointed at her. “That’s his whore, right there. She helped him with everything. She’s probably spying for him so he can come back and slit your throats in the night.”
“Indeed.” Meldrick’s gaze swung to Felicity, then back to McCulla. “Lovers, you say?”
Felicity knew better than to speak.
McCulla licked his dry lips. “She had the run of the bleedin’ ship. They planned to let her da take their punishment while they rutted like animals. You should ’ave seen the way he had her dressed, not all prim and proper like she is now.”
Meldrick smiled. “Get Mr. McCulla a bottle of the libation of his choice.”
All traces of Felicity’s exhaustion were swept away by fear.
Meldrick dropped his handkerchief to the floor, ca
refully placing his knee on the cloth so as not to soil his crisp white breeches. He knelt beside Felicity and gently took her hand. “You failed to mention you were Andrew Crawford’s lover. Is that why you ventured from Boston to Barbados in the first place?”
She started to speak, but the admiral held up his other hand. “Don’t bother to deny it, Miss Kendall. Your cheeks have turned a most delightful shade of red.”
She yanked her hand from his grasp. “My father had nothing to do with my relationship with Mr. Crawford.” She lifted her chin, refusing to quail under the triumphant glow in his eyes.
Admiral Meldrick stood. “I’m afraid you’ve lost your credibility. I almost believed you were aiming at El Diablo when you pulled that trigger, but not now. Not only will I see to the prompt execution of your father on our return to Barbados, but you’ll be swinging right next to him.”
Bile rose in the back of her throat. If she had to speak, she would have choked. Instead, she glared at Admiral Meldrick. He looked exceedingly pleased.
“What do you suppose our El Diablo will do now?” he asked. Not waiting for an answer, he strutted to the table where McCulla greedily gulped down rum, and the two men began to converse as if they were childhood chums.
Drew would not come for her this time. She and her father would die.
Chapter Nineteen
Felicity jerked back from the stench rising from the darkness at the bottom of the stone steps. The guard escorting her into the Barbados gaol gingerly touched her elbow. She yanked it away and continued her descent on her own. She didn’t deserve his care. In the luxury of the British vessel that brought her back to the island, she’d almost been able to forget her status as a prisoner. Entering the tomb that incarcerated her father altered her false sense of ease.
Convincing Admiral Meldrick to allow her to see her father had been too easy. His congeniality had raised Felicity’s suspicions—especially considering the dire pronouncement he’d made earlier about obtaining her death. But the royal treatment she’d received on their voyage back to Barbados on the HMS Warwick had brought an understanding—it was not too late to save her neck or her father’s. During several nights’ meals with the admiral, not a word was mentioned regarding her impending trial. She’d come to understand that Meldrick found the idea of hanging a woman almost as appalling as she did. He fully expected her to eventually condemn Drew and save them both a lot of unpleasantness.
Through their dinner conversations, she’d learned of the warships accompanying them. Admiral Meldrick bragged of El Diablo’s inevitable crushing defeat if he attempted a rescue. On their last night at sea, with no sign of Drew or the Rapture, Meldrick’s jovial mood turned sour. However, he had perked up when she’d insisted upon seeing her father as soon as they docked. The condition of her father’s imprisonment explained Admiral Meldrick’s response.
She deserved to be in this dungeon alongside her father. Then she might rid herself of her loyalty to a killer. Not that she wanted to hurt Solomon and Hugh, but if she told the British of their island… The thought fell away unfinished. She wouldn’t reveal information that could lead—even inadvertently—to the capture of Drew or his crew. Therefore, she and her father would die.
She fought back tears. While sacrificing her own life would be just penance, her father didn’t deserve to be kept like an animal or have his life taken from him. He’d never harmed another human being in his life. Yet his own daughter didn’t have the strength of character to save him. Not if it meant sacrificing Drew.
Light pierced the darkness through small windows located high in the stone walls. Cells lined each side of the passageway. A dank mist seeped from the floor and the walls, making it hard to breathe. Prisoners leaned against the stone, silently watching them. An occasional rattled chain or the steady drip of water were the only sounds penetrating the hollow stillness of despair.
In one of the cells, thin arms and legs protruded from a bundle of tattered clothing. What was once a man lay huddled in the corner, shrinking from a shaft of sunlight touching the dirt floor.
Felicity hesitated until the guard propelled her onward.
When she realized the man wasn’t her father, she let out a sigh of relief. The feeling only lasted for a moment. The third cell she came to held the man she sought.
Her father staggered to the bars separating them, his eyes wide with disbelief. He reached out to her, but had only enough room to push his fingers through the metal. “Felicity?”
She interpreted the smile lighting his sunken features to mean he’d not heard of her exploits or her fate.
She hooked her fingers through his. “Father, I’ve been so worried about you.” Her voice came out low and husky, but she managed to gulp back her sob.
“I must say the same, daughter.” His filthy clothes, probably the ones he’d been wearing when he was arrested, swallowed him. The cream of his stockings had turned sooty gray. Tufts of white hair sprang like horns from the sides of his balding head. Despite all this, he smiled at her. “I suspected you got yourself on Lord Christian’s ship, but—”
“You know that’s not who he is. He’s an awful man. Truly awful.” This time she choked on her words. She’d not meant to bring up her relationship with Drew, but her heartache spilled from her like a child confessing her nightmares in the hope her father could banish them forever.
He squeezed her fingers. “What’s this about, Felicity? Drew wouldn’t mistreat you. He wouldn’t mistreat a woman—”
She pulled her hand away. “I think Beatrice Marley would disagree. He’s the one they call El Diablo. Surely you know that. That’s why you’re here.”
His smile faded, revealing the gauntness in his drooping cheeks. All her memories of her father centered around his rounded, smiling face and his laughter. He’d been just like that on her arrival in Barbados, but she’d not appreciated him. Instead, she’d noticed only his failings, as she perceived them. She’d condemned her father, believing him to be a fool. With the impending demise of her own short, painful life, she finally realized she too was a fool.
She wrapped her fingers over his, regretting making him frown. The truth would not change their fate. If condemning Drew upset him, she’d hold her tongue even if she choked on it.
Her father attempted to smile again, but the effort merely wobbled his lips. “Don’t be sad for me. I knew the possible consequences of my actions, and now I’m paying for them. But I don’t blame Drew, and neither should you. For once in your life, Felicity, try to see with your heart and not your eyes.”
“I did see with my heart and believed all of Drew’s lies.” Leaning her forehead against the cool metal bars hid the tears in her eyes. She had no right to cry for herself when her father remained in this place. “I actually convinced myself I loved him.” Her confession burned her throat. She lifted her head to look into her father’s face. She owed him the truth. “God forgive me, but I still do.”
“I see.” Her father’s direct gaze warned her that he understood far more about her relationship with Drew than she intended to tell him. “Perhaps Drew has a few things to answer for in that respect, but I can assure you his goal wasn’t to intentionally hurt you.”
She squeezed the bars of her father’s cage, anger filling her now instead of sorrow. The fact that her father could still defend Drew proved the man’s seduction of him had been more thorough than her own. “You’ve always softened your heart to fools, and now you’ve extended your blind kindness to murderers. Drew used me. He used you. He murdered your dearest friend, his innocent bride, and still you can’t see what he is. I should have shot him while I had the chance.”
Her father’s eyes narrowed, the warm brown hardening into an expression she’d never seen before. “Your mother made me promise to let you have more freedom than other girls because of your strong spirit. I’ve done that, but this time you’ve gone too far. I assure you, if you do anything to bring about Drew’s capture, I will go to my grave with a rift betwee
n us that will never be healed.”
“How can you take his—”
“Do you think me such a simpleton that I didn’t know Drew was not who he claimed to be?”
She tried to convince herself she misunderstood what he was saying, but his chilling revelation seeped past her anger. “You knew he was a pirate all along?”
Her father sighed. “Yes. Marley and I were traveling the same course we’d been on in Boston. Without royal influence or noble blood, we didn’t have a chance in trade as honest businessmen—even in England’s remotest colonies. Drew changed our fate or we would have lost everything, including the house your mother left your brother.”
She blinked, realizing her eyes had been wide with surprise. “But it was Mother’s wish for the house to be Jonathan’s when he came of age.”
Her father lowered his gaze. “Legally, the house was mine. I’m ashamed to say I put up your home as collateral to obtain the money it took for Marley and me to start over again in Barbados. I swear I planned to make the money back twofold and give Jonathan his inheritance. With Drew’s help, I was able to do that.”
Felicity stepped back from the bars separating them. She questioned whether she’d ever known her father at all. “And you sought out a reputed killer to ensure your financial success? I don’t understand. I never would have thought you would profit on other people’s misery for any reason.”
“For once, daughter, hear me out before you condemn me. I found Drew half-conscious after he washed up on a beach on the other side of the island.” He raised his hand to stop her when she opened her mouth to interrupt. “I’d been contemplating my financial woes and walking aimlessly. The young man looked in worse shape than I was. I thanked God for that which I did still possess and took him home to nurse him back to health.”
“When will you learn not to take in every stray dog you see loitering in the streets? If this hasn’t taught you your lesson, I don’t know what will.”
